


White Wedd- Handfasting

by NotASpaceAlien



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Gen, Short, Silly, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt and Anathema officially tie the knot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Wedd- Handfasting

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/129955861070/anathemas-and-newtons-wedding-and-the-disaster

“Newt.  Newt.”

“Hm?”

“Please don’t touch that.”

Newt looked down at the speaker he had been leaning on, which was filling the air with breezy classical music.  Becoming suddenly aware of himself, he removed himself from it.  “Ah.  Sorry.”

Anathema came over and straightened his bowtie.  “Best not touch any of the electronics, dear.”  She pecked him on the cheek.

“Aren’t you–em–Supposed to be getting dolled up by the bridesmaids, or something?”

Anathema, who was still dressed casually, gave a dismissive wave.  “I can’t. I need to make sure everything gets set up properly.”

“Anathema, I can handle it.  It’s your big day, you shouldn’t have to do all the work.”

“I can’t trust them to do it,” said Anathema fussily, gesturing vaguely at all the other people on the lawn, and providing no reason why not, and motoring away to continue preparations.

Newt shook his head.  The wedding– _Handfasting_ , he corrected himself, because Anathema had done it so many times that it was now a Pavlovian response in his brain–was starting soon, and all the guests were beginning to arrive.  Fortunately the food was already out, and the bar was set up–an outdoor wedding, but oh yes, they had still managed to get a proper bar.

The chairs were set out on the lawn, in front of the archway, and the grass was green and springy, and there were bright yellow flowers bouncing with a light breeze.  The weather and the scenery were perfect, almost as if someone thought this was the way a wedding should look…

“Hello,” said a voice from behind him.

Newt turned to see a small blond boy, a trio of other children arranged behind him.

“Ah, hello!” said Newt, and then added, in the true spirit of a very polite person with a terrible memory, “-sport!” 

He ruffled Adam’s hair, and the boy looked very irritated.  But Adam had learned that arguing with adults* not to patronize him never ended up very well, even though he was older now.

* * *

*He had had success in arguing with supernatural beings, but one could make an argument that those are closer to children than adults anyway.

* * *

Newt was relieved when the Them wandered off; he could not remember how he knew Adam.  He also could not remember how he knew the two men who had just arrived and headed straight for the open bar, one in sunglasses and a sharp suit and the other in–a less sharp suit, and a tacky tartan tie.  They must be from Anathema’s side of the family?

“Anathema,” said Newt, moving to her and tapping her on the shoulder.  He gestured to the bar; the two men were consuming the free alcohol with evident appreciation and no small amount of vigor.  “Who are those two?”

“Who, them?” said Anathema.  “They’re um…They’re….Well, they’re on the guest list.  Right?”

The one with the tie had sloshed champagne over the rim of his glass onto his companion as they both laughed.  “Oh, I remember,” said Anathema.  “The one with the dark glasses knocked me off my bike.”

Newt blinked.  “And you…invited him to your wedding for that?”

“Uh…I’ve met them somewhere else, too, I just…can’t quite remember…Ahh…Newt, they’re not hurting anything, just let them be.  Look, isn’t that your old boss over there, hm?”

Newt turned to see Sargent Shadwell arriving, Madam Tracy holding his arm.

“Sargent Shadwell!” said Newt, waving and hurrying over to greet him.  “Nice to see you again!”

“Aye, laddie,” he said, but his attention was on the bar.  “Say, those two over there…”

“Anathema said not to worry about them,” said Newt.

“Mister Shadwell, you’re retired, remember?” said Madam Tracy, slapping his shoulder.

“Aye,” he grumbled, only taking his eyes off the men at the bar to set them on Anathema.

There was an enormous crash behind him, and Newt heard a bark.

“Did somebody bring a dog?” he said, turning around.  


Newt saw a mutt scampering away from a table whose tablecloth had been pulled off, a chicken leg in its mouth, and heard a young voice admonishing it that it was a _bad dog._ He also heard two other voices, one smoky and one prissy, and both somehow already very drunk, giggling and remarking incoherently about what had happened.

“Ahm,” said Newt, catching up to the boy with the dog.  “Look, I’m sure your dog is very nice, but I don’t think it’s best if he…”  


“Oh, he’s very sorry,” said Adam, rubbing Dog’s head as he gnawed on his prize, not looking very sorry at all.  “I told him what he did was bad.  He won’t do it again, I promise, and he’ll be very well-behaved during the ceremony, _won’t he_?”  This last part was with a glare at the dog, who whined and cowered in response.

“Um, actually, I think, what I meant was-”  


“I knew it was you ye great southern pansy!” rang out Shadwell’s voice.  


Newt found himself running to head off trouble before it could begin; little did he realize he had a full two hours, three fistfights, one attempted (and failed) exorcism, ten minutes of wrestling a gun off an old man, and one investigation into who had changed the champagne into aged red wine to go before the wedding– _handfasting–_ would go off without a hitch.


End file.
